The air in the "Grey Pits" was a toxic slurry of sulfur and rotting marrow. Down here, three hundred feet below the gleaming spires of the Capital, the sun was a myth, and hope was a commodity no one could afford.
Cian Thorne tightened the leather straps of his rucksack. At nineteen, his face was already etched with the hollow exhaustion of a man triple his age. He was a "Carrier"—the lowest rung of the dungeon-delving ladder. While the "Blessed" wore enchanted mithril and wielded flames from their fingertips, Cian carried their spare whetstones, their dried rations, and their vanity.
"Keep up, Null," snarled Kael, a mid-tier Warrior whose ego was significantly higher than his actual Combat Power. "If I lose my pace because a maggot is dragging his feet, I'll deduct the cost from your pittance."
Cian didn't reply. To speak was to waste oxygen. Instead, he gripped the hilt of his weapon—a Composite Sword he'd salvaged from a scrap heap and spent months repairing in secret. It was a heavy, ugly thing of interlocking steel plates and internal gears. To the Blessed, it was a relic of a dead age of mechanics. To Cian, it was the only thing that didn't require a "System Spark" to kill.
The party rounded a jagged corner of obsidian rock. Suddenly, the cavern went silent. The dripping of water stopped. The ambient hum of mana died.
"Wait," the party's Scout whispered, his eyes glowing faint blue as he activated a detection skill. "There's something… high-level. Why is there a Grade-3 here?"
From the ceiling, a shadow detached itself. It was a Grade-3 Iron-Hide Ravager—a beast the size of a carriage, covered in natural plates of biological armor that looked like rusted iron. Its six eyes fixed on the party, glowing with a predatory hunger that bypassed the "protection" of their low-level armor.
"Retreat!" Kael screamed.
The "True Hunters" didn't hesitate. They didn't even look back at their Carrier. They sprinted toward the narrow mana-gate they had entered through. Kael was the last one out. As Cian reached the threshold, his hand outstretched, he saw Kael's face through the shimmering blue film of the gate.
The Warrior didn't reach out to pull him through. Instead, Kael slammed his fist into the control crystal on the exterior.
"Sorry, Null," Kael spat, his eyes wide with terror. "The beast needs a distraction so we can get to the lift. Consider this your final service to the Crown."
The mana-gate hissed shut, turning into a solid, impenetrable wall of light.
Cian was alone. The silence of the cave was broken only by the heavy, wet breathing of the Ravager behind him. He turned slowly. The beast lowered its head, its jagged mandibles clicking in anticipation. It didn't see a threat; it saw a soft, stat-less sack of meat.
Cian's heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. This is it, he thought. The end of a nobody.
But as the Ravager lunged, a cold, crystalline calm settled over him. It was the clarity of the doomed. He didn't have a System to guide his blade, but he had eyes. He had watched three hundred hunts. He knew how the Ravager moved—how it favored its left haunch, how it winced before a heavy strike.
He rolled.
The beast's claws shattered the stone where he'd stood a millisecond before. Cian felt the wind of the strike pull at his hair. He didn't run. He dove under the beast's chest.
He gripped the secondary trigger on his Composite Sword. Click.
The internal gears groaned. The blade, previously a short, heavy cleaver, hissed as the segments detached, held together by a high-tension carbon wire. With a roar of effort, Cian swung the whip-sword around the Ravager's thick neck.
The wire bit into the gaps between the iron-hide plates. The beast shrieked, a sound that vibrated in Cian's marrow. It began to thrash, slamming Cian against the cavern walls. Ribs snapped. Blood sprayed from his mouth, coating his chin.
I won't die like meat, Cian snarled internally. If I go, I'm taking a piece of the world with me.
He jammed his feet against the beast's shoulder and pulled the retraction lever on the hilt. The gears whirred at maximum torque. The serrated segments of the blade began to scream as they were pulled back together, acting like a motorized saw through the creature's throat.
Black, corrosive blood geysered out, drenching Cian. The Ravager gave one final, violent shudder and collapsed, pinning Cian's legs beneath its massive weight.
Cian lay there, gasping, the world fading to gray. His vision blurred. He waited for the cold embrace of death.
Then, the world stopped.
A sound like a tuning fork being struck echoed in his skull. In the center of his vision, a blood-red window flickered into existence—sharper and more terrifying than any Golden System he had ever seen.
[HIDDEN REQUIREMENT MET: "The Defiant Null"]
[Slaying a Grade-3 Beast with Zero Base Stats.]
[Initialization of the AVARICE SYSTEM...]
[10%... 50%... 100%]
[Host: Cian Thorne]
[Level: 1]
[Trait: Soul Reaper - You harvest what you kill.]
Cian felt a sudden, violent heat in his chest. It felt as if someone had poured molten lead into his veins.
[Commencing Harvest...]
[Target: Iron-Hide Ravager (Grade-3)]
[Success! Transferring 50% of Target's Raw Stats to Host.]
[Strength: +18]
[Agility: +22]
[Constitution: +25]
[Sense: +10]
His bones began to pop and realign. The shattered ribs fused back together with a sickening crack. The muscle on his lean frame thickened, defining itself with corded power. The weight of the beast, which had been crushing his legs, suddenly felt... manageable.
But the System wasn't done.
[Luck Roll: CRITICAL SUCCESS (0.1% Chance)]
[Looting Skill from Target...]
[Skill Acquired: 'Hardened Carapace' (Rank B - Passive)]
Description: Your skin now possesses the durability of Grade-3 Iron-Hide. Reduces physical damage taken by 30%.
Cian pushed. With a grunt of newfound strength, he heaved the thousand-pound carcass off his legs. He stood up in the darkness, his breath coming in steady, powerful draws. He looked at his hands—they were covered in black blood, but they weren't shaking anymore.
He looked at the mana-gate. On the other side, Kael and the others were likely laughing, celebrating their "narrow escape" at the pub.
Cian gripped his Composite Sword. The gears felt smoother now, as if his very touch had refined the weapon.
"My turn," he whispered. His voice was deeper, carrying a resonance that made the shadows in the cave recoil.
High above, in the Commander's Watch, Lady Seraphina suddenly stood up from her desk. Her rapier, a relic of pure light, hummed in its scabbard.
"Commander?" her aide asked, startled.
Seraphina looked toward the floor, her eyes piercing through the stone layers toward the Grey Pits. "A ripple in the Ledger. Someone just broke the laws of the world."